


Live as Matt Murdock

by ravenienne



Series: Retirement [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 03, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind Character, Blindness, Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Pain, Disability, Disabled Character, Gen, Physical Disability, Walking Canes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenienne/pseuds/ravenienne
Summary: A continuation of my fic No More Night Job, and an AU of Daredevil Season 3.Matt's recovery from Midland Circle didn't go quite as well as it did in the series. His hip and back are still painful, and his hearing isn't the same. How will he, and Foggy and Karen, deal with Fisk without Daredevil?





	Live as Matt Murdock

“Oh hey, Matt, I didn’t know you were coming in to the office today!”

Foggy’s cheerful voice caught Matt somewhat by surprise, though he managed not to jump or spill the coffee he had just been finishing in the floor kitchen. He managed to smile back at his friend.

“Hey, yeah, it was just for the afternoon, to report and pick up another assignment. So.” He shrugged.

“Still could have mentioned it this morning,” Foggy answered, though Matt thought he still heard a smile in his voice.

“Sorry,” Matt said sheepishly, finishing off his coffee and tossing the disposable cup in the trash next to him. He was incredibly grateful for Foggy finding him contract work at his firm, and for letting him crash at his and Marci’s apartment -- temporarily, as Marci not-infrequently reminded them -- since he couldn’t navigate the stairs at his own anymore. But it wasn’t quite like being roommates had been, or like being partners together at Nelson & Murdock had been, and navigating the new parameters of their relationship was still a little awkward at times. “I just figured, since we wouldn’t be walking in together…” he trailed off. “But hey, we’re meeting Karen for dinner soon, right? We could head out together?”

“Oh, yeah.” Now Foggy sounded sheepish. “I was just about to text you about that actually. I’m gonna have to cancel. I gotta finish up some things, I don’t have time tonight.”

Matt deflated. “Again? But Foggy, it’s Friday night. Can’t it at least wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m on a roll right now, gotta ride the wave.”

“Foggy, you’ve canceled plans with Karen and me the last two weeks in a row.”

“No, I canceled last week. Karen canceled the week before.”

Matt sighed and absently ran his free hand through his hair.

“Don’t give me that hurt puppy look, Murdock.” Foggy’s voice held a warning tone.

“What look?”

Foggy sighed. “Fine! Marci will not be happy, but I’ll finish it tomorrow. I’ll just ask Karen if we can meet at 7 instead of 6:30, that okay with you?”

Matt grinned. “Sure thing.”

“Meet me at my office. Six-thirty, don’t be late. I’m wagging my finger at you warningly,” Foggy added.

Matt laughed and limped away, black collapsible support cane in his left hand and red and white collapsible long cane in his right hand, tapping the floor ahead of him.

xxXxx

At six-thirty sharp, according to his watch, Matt stopped outside Foggy’s office. Finding the door open, he stood there a moment, expecting Foggy to notice him. When no greeting came, he set his long cane against his shoulder, leaned against his black cane, and gave a sharp rap to the door frame.

“Matt, hey.”

Matt startled when Foggy’s voice came from his left and behind him. “Foggy, hey,” he replied, taking a slow breath. “Thought you were in your office.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Just made a quick bathroom stop. I’m all packed up though, you good to go?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“You want my arm?” Foggy asked as he walked inside his office. He quickly returned and closed and locked his office door behind him.

“Sure, thanks,” Matt responded. He leaned his weight carefully to his left, set his black cane against the wall, and collapsed his long cane, stuffing it into an outside pocket of his bag which he quickly converted from messenger bag to backpack style. When he’d first started seeing a physical therapist for his leg and back, they had insisted that he switch to a bag that distributed weight evenly (along with cutting down on the weight he regularly carried, but that was a different story), like a backpack. When he had argued that briefcases -- out of the question since he needed both hands to walk and navigate -- and messenger bags were perceived as more professional, their compromise had been finding a bag that could convert between. So that he could use the backpack when walking outside, and the messenger bag when walking around the office.

As he and Foggy set off towards the elevators, Matt asked, “So have we figured out where we’re going yet?” He angled his head more towards his friend as they stopped in front of the elevator bank, trying to catch more of the response with his good left ear.

“Yeah, Karen chose a place she said she’s been wanting to try out. Google maps says it’s about three blocks away -- short blocks. You up for walking that far?”

Matt briefly considered the question, quickly assessing his current pain level and how much walking he had done already that day as they entered an elevator and Foggy punched in the button. “Yeah, I think that should be fine.”

The air was pleasantly chilly as they walked, and Matt breathed the scents in. There were plenty of unpleasant smells in New York City, but there were plenty of pleasant ones as well, and sometimes it was nice to revel in the beauty of them all twining together -- a unique bouquet probably only he could appreciate. He had mourned much in the couple of months since it had become clear that his body and his hearing would not be returning to what they once had been, but he tried to take the time to enjoy what he still had. When he remembered.

“According to Google, we are… just… Oh, yeah, I see Karen. It’s just up ahead,” Foggy said enthusiastically, and Matt nodded in response.

“Hey, guys,” came Karen’s voice. Still soft, still sweet, but with that edge to it that had only barely been present when he’d first met her. “I was just about to call you. Um, bit of a problem.”

“Oh,” was Foggy’s response.

“Yeah,” Karen said, annoyance clear in her tone.

Matt frowned. He let go of Foggy’s arm so he could turn his good ear towards them both better. “Am I missing something? What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Foggy started, “turns out it’s one of those basement-level restaurants. Looks like… seven steps down from the sidewalk to the door. Can’t tell from here if there are more steps inside.”

“I’m sorry, Matt,” Karen started. “I should have thought to call them beforehand--”

“It’s fine,” Matt interrupted her, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m still figuring this out myself, I wouldn’t have thought of it either. Don’t worry about it.”

“Let me pull up Yelp real quick,” Foggy said. “Or, we passed at least one Thai place I know is good, we could head back there. Or -- also on the table -- one of us grabs take-out here and we head back to one of our apartments-- well, Marci is working from home tonight, but Karen--”

“Uh, the elevator at my place is broken. Again. I swear it’s broken more often than it works.”

“Guys, please, wait,” Matt stopped them. He paused, then before he could second-guess himself, said, “I can do it. Seven steps is… I can do it, okay?”

“You sure, buddy?” Foggy checked, sounding concerned and not sure if he should believe Matt.

“Foggy, I know my own body, I know what I can handle. Maybe just,” he sighed. “Just double-check there’s no more steps inside?”

“Sure thing, one sec.”

Matt and Karen waited in silence for the few seconds it took Foggy to dash down the stairs, walk inside the door, then re-emerge a moment later. He spoke as he came back up the stairs.

“There’s a tiny one a couple feet past the door, but that’s all I saw. You good?”

Matt gave a tiny nod. He took a small step towards Foggy’s voice, then paused, having not pulled his long cane back out.

“Here, I got you buddy.” Foggy’s voice came from just in front of him, and a hand brushed his. Matt found his elbow and latched on, clutching his black cane tightly.

The steps were slow, and grueling. Each time he carefully placed his cane down a step, his bad leg following, then shifted to get his good leg down, the ache in his hip and back twisted and settled deeper. After five steps his pace had slowed considerably, and he could feel sweat breaking out on his brow, cold in the night air. He paused and straightened, leaning heavily on the black cane and motioning Foggy to give him a minute. He hoped no one was waiting behind them. He hadn’t heard anyone, but he hadn’t exactly been paying much attention.

“Just two more,” Foggy said quietly.

Matt nodded, sucked in a breath, and put his cane down to the next step.

Finally, Matt had made it down all seven -- and a half -- steps to the hostess’ stand, and was determinedly not thinking about having to go back up them. At some point Karen had gone ahead to request a table, and since it was a bit of a hole-in-the-wall, there was no wait despite it being a Friday night in New York City. Either that, or Karen had bribed someone to let them jump the line so Matt could sit. By that point, he didn’t care either way, he was just grateful to be led to a table not far away and sink into a chair.

“Okay,” Matt sighed and breathed in through his nose. “What’s on the menu? I smell something delicious but I need a name to go with it.”

The meal was, in fact delicious, and the conversation that accompanied it was light and peppered with friendly banter. Matt vaguely heard a TV playing quietly in some corner throughout the night, but he filtered it out along with the rest of the background noise, until he heard a familiar name. He stiffened, listening, and it took only a moment for Foggy and Karen to notice.

“Matt, what’s wrong?”

“You okay?”

Matt held up a finger and quietly said, “The TV.” He wasn’t sure that they could see or hear it, unable to pinpoint exactly where it was located, so he listened intently until the story changed. Then he sighed and his hand found the bridge of his nose, pinching as he closed his eyes.

“Matt?” Karen’s voice, concerned.

Matt opened his eyes and moved his hand away, clenching it into a fist in his lap, under the table. “It’s Fisk,” he said quietly. “The FBI let Fisk out of prison.”

“Out of prison…? What…?”

“House arrest,” Matt said tersely.

“But--”

“The newscaster didn’t explain much, I’m not sure.”

The silence was filled with meaningful glances between Foggy and Karen, he was sure. Eventually, he unhooked his black cane from where it was resting against the edge of the table and planted it on the ground.

“Can one of you signal the waiter for the check? I’m ready to go,” he said.

“Uh, yeah,” Karen replied.

“Matt--” Foggy began.

“I’m sorry Foggy, but I think I’m gonna need a cab home tonight, is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll call one so we don’t have to wait outside.”

Matt sighed. “Thanks, that’d be great.”

They parted ways with Karen at the top of the steps, after Matt had repeated the torturous and embarrassing process of the seven-and-a-half stairs in reverse. The cab ride with Foggy was quiet, though Matt could tell he wanted to say something. Foggy waited to speak up until they had entered the apartment and he had closed and locked the door behind him. But by that point, Matt was just about at his limit for pain tolerance, and he wanted nothing more than to pop a rescue pill and fall asleep. Fisk -- and Foggy’s insistence on Matt discussing his feelings regarding the whole thing and the complications with him not being Daredevil anymore, which was surely what he wanted to do -- and everything else, could wait until morning.

“Matt--” was all Foggy could get out before Matt cut him off with a wave of his hand behind his back as he headed towards the guest bedroom.

“I’m exhausted, Foggy. I’m going to sleep. And yes, I’ll take my rescue.”

If Foggy responded, Matt didn’t hear it over the closing of his bedroom door.


End file.
